


You’re dead

by Rozzie



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Guillermo’s patience has run out kids, It is 12:30am and I am not awake at all, M/M, Norma tanega lyrics will forever be my fic titles because I am not creative, The warning is for a swear and imagined gore, someone left me alone for a solid day with no entertainment so here’s what I spent my day doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozzie/pseuds/Rozzie
Summary: Guillermo isn’t sure how much longer he can put up with Nandor’s false promises.





	You’re dead

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to admit that I didn’t edit this but it’s 12:30am and I have school tomorrow so..

Guillermo would like to say that his master gives him the most bang for his buck when it comes to the $1200 a week he spends merely keeping an occupancy within the vampire household. For that much a month he could afford a down payment on a car. Or a rental. Or an actual house for that matter. Let alone a cramped old closet which just barely manages to hold a cheap cot and a rickety table that was more than likely dragged in from someone’s bulk trash. Mainly because it was. In an attempt to liven the drab place up, Guillermo had pasted up his collection of various macabre illustrations, pictures of famous vampires and old Victorian novelties. Vampiric entities featured in magazines and novels, ink and water drawings. Scratches and carvings rest atop the decaying walls, chiseled marks which depict the days that the familiar had spent within that poveristic cupboard, counting down to when he would become one of those noble vampires that he plastered upon his walls. His world. 

These days, it seems less like a countdown to his turning rather than an inevitable breakdown involving a garden stake and Nandor’s heart. Churning Tides. 

The familiar had given up counting. 

But it is certainly a subject that Guillermo isn’t quite sure can stay dormant for much longer, no matter how much control he keeps himself within. And it’s times like these when the familiar wishes that Nandor would spare him from the torment of his confliction. The urge to hurt the one he loves most. And no matter how aggravating and hypocritical Nandor is at times, no matter how many times he has abandoned Guillermo and left him alone in the most dangerous of circumstances, the vampire always seems to carry an almost blatant ignorance to his actions. A total disregard to his familair’s own feelings. Holding no care in the world. 

Guillermo attempts to share that same brindling ignorance within his own heart, glaring through narrowed eyes towards the ceiling that comes down no more than two feet above him. An attempt to calm himself down in the late evening ambience, a release from the absolute madness that runs through the familiar, angry beyond words at his master. The perfectly unaware and ungrateful face of that virgin girl from earlier, now turned without a semblance of understanding. Unworthy. 

The familiar clenches onto his bedspread in a repeat of the raw hatred that had spread through his throat and chest when he had first laid eyes on that newfound vampire. Random. Blissfully rewarded with one of the most grandest honors one could possess and without even a moment of labor. Flexing his knuckles, Guillermo feels his teeth instinctively grind against one another, releasing that roaring heat behind his ribs. He is tempted to march right on upstairs and dig his own soft-ended molars into Nandor’s flesh and turn himself. 

Ten years. Ten fucking years. And what was he given in return? This expensive broom closet, countless hours at work, endless laboring for a vampire that barely even acknowledged him as anymore than an occasional convenience. A decade on this lumpy, thin mattress. A decade in this ancient, indifferent household. The slow but steady chipping of his humanity until Guillermo was unable to sleep for more than a handful of hours, haunted by the amount of people he had found worthy enough to sate his master’s tastes. And then the cold, wet apathy that now resides within the familiar. Unfazed by a victim of bloodlust. At least that sort of death was fast. This sort of torture was unimaginably sedate. Sluggish. Both mentally and physically draining. 

Guillermo uses all his might not to sit up, refusing to allow himself to say or do something he very much will regret. Because he knows in the back of his head that no matter how much of a prick Nandor is, he really isn’t a bad person. If anything, Guillermo has started to wonder if he’s grown into a bad person. Helping a crew of murderous blood-suckers. Luring innocent people to their demise. And now one of those victims had been bestowed with the gift that had almost led to her death. And technically, depending on how you phrase it, that was exactly what happened. 

Maybe he deserves to remain in this hellish cycle of rewardless labor until eventually his luck runs out and Nandor finds Guillermo at a loss of blood and life at the hands of another vampire. Maybe even at the fallen warrior’s own fangs. Maybe that’s just how this was going to turn out for the familiar, a life of working besides idols and never reaching their gold-plated pedestals. Guillermo shivers at the mere thought, the mere idea that a third of his life has been spent aimlessly following an unreachable fantasy. A waste of time. A lack of luck. Fairness. 

A slippery oil has begun to chisel at the familiar’s stomach, gnawing at his growing anxiety, too much to feel after so many raw, unfiltered emotions. And then a quiet voice begins to etch at the back of Guillermo’s skull, whispering the sources of his conflict. Answers to these sorts of inconveniences. Abuses. The amazon box seems disturbingly favorable at the current moment. Guillermo is too swept up in these thoughts as he reaches for the unused package, singing the same tune as the rosary beneath his sweater. 

The moment that the familiar touches the first stake, a shiver shoots up his arm, fingertips numb as they prod at the splintered and sanded garden utensil. There is that voice again, whispering in Guillermo’s other ear in fear. An acute awareness of what it was that he dared to even think of doing. But it seems all too far away, much too drowned out by everything else swarming inside of the familiar’s brain. Cramped. Smoothing his fingers across the stake, Guillermo takes a deep breath, clenching his jaw tight before a spark of undiluted fear spears through his veins. 

Nandor is standing at the entrance of the familiar’s room, darkened eyes centered directly on Guillermo and what lies within his hold. The air has taken a drastic drop in temperature, both men frozen in their spots, the scent of stalemate filling the thin ambience. Guillermo can hear the blood roaring in his ears, heart racing at such an alarming speed that he’s almost certain that the vampire could easily locate and tear it out without a moment’s hesitation. The familiar looks up at his master in what could best be described as horror, the look of a prisoner presented with his own warrant. The sizzling texture of foreboding death. A rabbit looking into the eyes of a wolf. Although Guillermo can’t even try to decipher who is the predator and who is the fresh prey. A coin toss could prove better than any decision he could make at the current moment. 

“Guillermo.” Nandor’s voice is level, unwavering as he stays put, boots digging into the creaking wood of the floor. The vampire radiates a sense of caution, alertness in the back of his gaze, as though one movement could set the familiar off, stake in hand. 

Grasping onto the stake, Guillermo doesn’t know how to respond, his tongue disembodied from whatever tangible thoughts manage to make themselves clear. He can feel a shiver shaking through his body, nerves untied and radiating every possible anxiety possible. “M-ma-“ Unable to form a coherent sentence, the familiar leans back, at a loss for words. “I..” Guillermo feels the blood drain from his face, sickly palen in the shadows of his room. 

“What.. are you doing?” Nandor questions hesitantly, taking a careful step forwards. He seems to bend his knees ever so slightly, as though he were approaching a startled cat. Guillermo tightens his hold on the stake, debating whether or not to release it and face the consequences or to keep it close and see what exactly his master attempts to do next. A gamble. He grips the handle, finally coming up with a response, “.. I’m having a.. serious thought.” 

“A serious thought, hm?” Nandor repeats, slowly beginning to approach the familiar. Still alert. And still very much focused on the weapon of carved wood. The vampire flicks his gaze down to meet Guillermo’s eyes, hidden behind their layer of rounded glass. Swirling with what very much seems like a serious thought. They focus on Nandor’s lips parted to respond to the slightest of answers, revealing the man’s glistening fangs in the process. Thinking. 

It’s Guillermo that is the first to speak this time, “You’re not going to turn me, are you.” It’s not much of a question requiring an answer rather than a statement considering a response. Not exactly groundbreaking. Or surprising. Merely an inevitable acknowledgement. 

Nandor furrows his brow, frowning. There’s a deep and inexpressible emotion twisting his expression, biting and considering as he crosses his arms. “Whyever would you think of that?” 

Guillermo lowers his eyes for a moment, a wave of doubt washing over him before he reels himself out of any sense of guilt, that pulsing rage beginning to bite at the back of his throat. “Don’t treat me like an idiot, Nandor.” He hisses, the familiar’s voice wavering for a moment, cracking ever so slightly. A crackling flame. He raises himself up, the metal of the cot creaking as he does so, stake still very much in hand. “You- you told me when we first met.. our deal was that you would turn me into a vampire when my service was complete.” Guillermo shoves his finger towards Nandor, baring his teeth in emphasis, “You promised me.” 

His voice lowers an octave at the last word, a whine almost, a plea to some sort of humanity left within the vampire. Nandor clenches his jaw in discomfort, clearly unprepared for such conversation. “Why don’t we talk this over later, Guillermo?” He suggests quietly, hands held together at his chest, a prayer stance to no one in particular. 

“No!” Guillermo barks, the uncharacteristic tone surprising even himself. “.. No.” 

Nandor blinks at him, the ease which had begun to seep within his posture disappearing, leaving the vampire to slowly acknowledge the weight of the movement. He had let his guard down for a moment, that ignorance still guiding Nandor even when it was clear that it was a treacherous move. Mindless at best, moronic at worst. It doesn’t take long for the vampire to realize what exactly it is that Guillermo is suggesting, his brow hardening. “What?” 

The familiar pauses, flexing his knuckles to release what anxiety remains inside of him, swallowed instead by motives clear as day. “I.. I can’t seem that stupid to you.” Guillermo sighs, staring up at his currently less than humorous master. A prime and animalistic glint in the vampire’s eyes. Watching. Hunting. 

“Guillermo..” Nandor murmurs, glancing at the stake, “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

The familiar stares at his master through slit eyes, debating his next move. “You won’t.” 

Nandor’s lips tighten at the statement, upset at what Guillermo was picking at, chipping away at something that wasn’t meant to be handled. At least not without care. And this seemed anything but planned, resembling more of a meltdown than anything else. That fact at least keeps the vampire from flinging his disrespectful familiar to the ground and turning him into his evening brunch. The stake remains in his hold though, and as long as that is consistent, so is the threat of danger. Careful there. “No, I don’t plan on it.” 

“Glad to know you're capable of planning for the future..” Guillermo grumbles, meeting his master’s eyes. “That you plan ahead.” 

“You shouldn’t worry about it, Guillermo, your time will come soon.” Nandor responds, lightly patting the familiar’s shoulder. He shrugs off the vampire’s touch, anger rising within Guillermo’s heart, scratching at the walls of his lungs, begging to escape. Careful there. “Soon?”

Nandor nods, Half-lidded eyes studying the man set before him “Your time will come.” The vampire takes a deep breath before halting all movement as he feels the sizzling pressure of that blunt stake press into his left rib, Guillermo’s patience finally having run out. 

“You’ve been telling me that for the last ten years, Nandor.” Guillermo exhales, able to see the individual strands of hair that make up his master’s dark mane. That physical detail brings him back a bit, an awareness that he does in fact care for Nandor, a sentiment that has managed to drag on for much, much too long. The endless nights he had spent alongside the vampire, company, working, the intimacy that amity invoked amongst those it applied to. Nandor’s rich hair held within Guillermo’s hold, braiding and brushing and releasing after the long and eventful nights they shared. Sentimentality. 

Nandor’s flesh was of a freshly minted quarter, cold and chilled when left without friction. But when it was handled between the palm of another, it grew to hold the warmth of its company. Guillermo feels this now more than ever as the vampire wraps his hand around his own, easing and then wrenching the stake from his clammy hold. The familiar’s only chance to heed something that carried the same weight as his master. To stand on the same pedestal, even if it was in challenge. 

“I’m sorry.” Nandor murmurs, Guillermo already beginning to back away, radiating the fear that he had kept suppressed for the past moment. Now drowning in it, the anxiety and panic. The familiar doesn’t get the chance to flee though, Nandor’s arms suddenly enveloping his form without any mercy, firm and steadily connected atop his back. Crushing. A boa constrictor wrapped around a fluttering bird. Except Guillermo didn’t even try to bother struggling. He waits for the snap of his spinal cord, for the floor to meet his skull. To be gnawed open and eaten alive. It isn’t like the vampires’ sentiments will cease their defined tastes. 

The familiar can feel his stomach press into Nandor’s own, the vampire conducting his brindling heat. Coiled irons inside of Guillermo’s face. Flushed. He merely leans into the touch, resting his head on his master’s shoulder. An excess of warmth within them both. Waiting. 

Nandor’s teeth find their compensation without any difficulty.

**Author's Note:**

> This could’ve been fluff but the 13 year old inside of me still craves the angst so here we are. Hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
